


Promises

by Weirdflaws



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weirdflaws/pseuds/Weirdflaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting the chickenpox is never a fun thing. Even when you're not the one having it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by otpprompts in Tumblr:
> 
> Imagine one of your OTP/OT3 has somehow managed to catch the chickenpox despite not being a kid anymore. How do they act? Are they a good or bad patient? Do they need to be oven-mitted?

Marco groans in frustration as he hears the whimpering and whining sound echoing from the bedroom. He did not need this. He’s on his break and he needs his well-earned rest from the all studying he’s been through. The heavy bags under his eyes are not going away at this point.

Getting up with a sigh, he takes a deep breath and tells himself that it will just be a few more days till his sister comes back from her vacation. And take her child back.

The man suddenly feels guilty at his own thoughts and make himself promise to treat the poor kid a little better. Trudging to the guest room of his apartment, Marco peeks into it and sees a child no older than five lying on the bed with half of it’s covers thrown off to the floor. She’s breathing heavily, cheeks rosy from the fever.

“Hey Mal, hang in there, it’ll be over soon.” Marco, already sitting by her side speaks so softly to her while he brushes the sweat-slicked hair on her forehead because he knows that it not going to be over anytime soon. The sickness will take at least a few days to recover from.

“Uncle Mar…” The girl whines with her eyes still closed and brows furrowed. “My head hurt.” She chokes a bit. “Make it go away.” Mal whines a bit more as she feels something cool pressed to her cheek.

His heart aches at the sight. “Just give it a day. Then, it’ll be okay.” Marco moves his hand over to her forehead and thinks that he have to give his sister another call.

-

“Dude. Did you forget our appointment?” A voice grumbles as it’s owner toes off his shoes at the door step. A worry crease appears on the brows as there’s no reply from the other person. “Marco?”

Said person is quietly shutting the door of the guest room as the visitor walks into the apartment. The freckled man startles when he sees him. “Jean!” He lets a shout escape and quickly winces.

“Hey. You okay? You weren’t picking up my calls.” Jean sends him a worried glance as he notices the frown on Marco’s face.

Marco let out a sheepish laugh, hand rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, Jean. Um… My sister suddenly decided to have me babysit her daughter.” He explains and lead the both of them to the kitchen. Marco busies himself to refill the empty glass with water while Jean settles on to a seat by the island. “I was planning to bring her along with me to your house, but then… she got the chickenpox.” He finishes off with a sigh.

Silence wraps around them for a moment when Marco waits for Jean’s reply but when he glances he catches Jean in a deep thought. “Jean. You there?” He waves his hand in front of his face, snapping Jean out from his reverie.

“What? Oh! Sorry. I mean I’m sorry to hear that. How is she?” Jean throws a glance at the room he saw Marco came out from.

“Mal is having a fever and a headache. But there’s a drop since last night. So, I’m pretty sure it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“Great. That’s good news. It’ll be over soon before you know it!” Jean tries to give an encouragement but Marco just reply with a strained smile. “Maybe I should tell her that instead of you huh?”

Marco just huffs and smiles as he watches Jean walking towards Mal’s room.

-

The next day bears great news. The fever ceased along with the headache. But now he have to deal with the scratching.

“Mal! I said no scratching!” Marco grabs the tiny hands that’s vigorously scratching the girl’s neck.

A whine. “But Uncle Mar!! It itches!!” Mal’s tries to tug her hand back but fails. So in annoyance she starts kicking her legs, hoping at least one of her fast kicks can earn it back. “Give me back my arms!!”

“Well, looks like someone’s a ball of energy today.”

“Uncle Jean!” The girl screams in joy to see Jean walking into the kitchen. She lunges for a hug but was held back. “Uncle Mar. Leggo.” She growls.

“No. Not until you promise me that you WILL stop scratching. If I catch you touching one of-”

“Okay!” She grunts and snatches back her arm’s freedom once she feels Marco’s hold slacken. Jean let out a little ‘oof’ at Mal’s weight suddenly on him.

“Sucks to be you man.” Jean grins at Marco’s scowl. It’s not everyday you see a child getting angry at Marco, the shining angel.

-

Jean’s laughter rings around the apartment and he’s not sorry if the neighbours can’t take it. “Oh my God!” He gasps out. Ow, his sides hurt so much.

“Jean, stop it. You’ll make her cry more.” Marco snarls but puts on so much effort to stifle his laughter thats waiting to burst out any moment. “Now, Mal, you promised you wouldn’t scratch. You broke your promise, so we have to deal with that, see?”

The girl bit her wobbling lips as tears silently fall. Mal nods quietly, knowing that a promise is a promise and it’s very important. She curls her giant oven-mitted hands. “Sorry, Uncle Mar.” Her voice shakes and more tears stream down her face. She starts wailing, drowning out Jean’s laugh.

“Aaaahhh.” Panicking, Marco’s hands wavers in front of her, not knowing what to do, which makes Jean laugh a lot more harder and Mal to cry a lot more louder. “Jean, you’re not helping!” He glares pointedly at the man clutching his abdomen.

“S-so-sorry.” Jean manages to gasp out and wills himself to stop laughing and thinking about those tiny little hands in those adult sized oven mitts. “I-I. Bathroom.” He picks himself up, albeit with effort and stumbles to the hallway.

-

“Uncle Mar! Uncle Mar! UNCLE MAR!”

Marco moans and pulls the closest pillow over his head. Why can’t he have more sleep? What did he do to deserve this? Then suddenly he feels a lithe body straddle his chest. “Uncle mar! Wake up!” A scream. Marco thinks it was a scream, but he couldn’t tell since he had a pillow over his ears, thankfully.

Like all good things, the bliss is short-lived as Mal tugs the pillow away. a more louder version of “UNCLE MAR. WAKE UP!” blasts into his ears and a series of face slapping follows after.

Marco almost lets a poor sob escape from his mouth. He grabs the small hands just before the starts another round of smacks. “What’s wrong Mal? What’s so wrong that you have to wake me up like this?” He sighs.

“Feckles! Uncle Jean has feckles like you!” The girl bounces lively on the man’s chest, squeezing the breath out of him.

Marco takes a minute for his sleep-deprived brain to decode the language. “What?” He chokes and jumps out of bed, carrying the child. “I thought he  _had_ chickenpox?” Marco said to no one in particular as he makes way out of his room. 

A sight of Jean with his face covered with patches of red rashes and little bumps greets him in the living room. “Hey.” Jean rasps out. It’s a wonder the sick man can manage to arrive to Marco’s doorstep still standing and breathing. Jean raises his hand and offers a meek smile. “So. Chickenpox.”

"I can see that." Marco narrows his eyes. “You. Are staying over until it’s all gone.”

Mal screeches with excitement, getting herself a playmate outshines the problem that she was the one who got Jean sick in the first place.

-

“Uncle Jean. No scratching okay? Promise?” Mal watches the man in question and raises a pinkie in front of him. Jean raised his brows, wondering where did this came from.

“Okay kid. I promise.” He sniffles and hooks his own pinkie with hers. Mal beams so bright that Jean thinks he might have to get his sunglasses.

Marco later finds them passed out on the couch with cartoons still playing on the television.

-

The little devil. Jean swears the runt is staring at him like a hawk the whole time since he promised her not to scratch.

Jean switches his line of vision to Marco. “I’m sorry Jean.” The freckled man giggles and tries to put on a straight face. Jean glares at his meek attempt. “But a promise is a promise.”

“Yeah, Uncle Jean! You scratched!” Mal pipes up from Marco’s side and holding out the oven-mitts like a treasure sent for the king.

Jean groans. “Oh my God. THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I’m on my break right now and I thought I would start brushing up my writing skills. I hope it’s okay! *sweat nervously* ~~Also, I had chickenpox when I was just a few months old. My dad give the chickenpox to me because I just couldn’t keep my distance from him. Lol.~~


End file.
